Duels of Honour:  Giving the Blade
by WarlordFil
Summary: Second half of a duology.  Battle-stress and guilt are straining the relationship between the Arbiter and Rtas, and now a series of misunderstandings threaten to bring down Usze and N'tho as well...  In-progress.


**Author's Note:**

Due to ongoing RL health concerns I've not been able to write as much fanfic as I would like. I ask my readers to understand that family, work, health, and my long-term paid writing projects come first. However, it is my hope over the course of this year and into the next to finish _Blood Shadow _and also this, the second half of the Duels of Honour duology, as well as my Mass Effect stories.

The first half of this series, "Giving the Lie," was about the Arbiter and N'tho; so here now is the second half…

**Duels of Honour: Giving the Blade**

**Chapter the First: Battle Lines Drawn**

_Earth, 2553_

The Arbiter, once called Thel 'Vadam, swallowed his pride and crammed his hind end into the tiny little chair across the room from the Human called Doctor Jane D'Souza.

He guessed that the chair would be a generous size for a human being, but it was a tight fit for a Sangheili in armour, and it was as though Human chairs were designed to strike Sangheili knees in a way that was extremely uncomfortable. Thel took a deep breath as he studied the Human. She seemed interested in him, but her scent still held an edge of fear.

That made two of them.

The Arbiter dragged in a deep breath and spoke three words he thought he'd rather die than say.

"I require assistance."

The Human nodded, as though she understood how much it had cost him to speak those words.

When she did not speak, the Arbiter found himself talking in order to fill the ensuing silence. "I have heard from the Marines I met on the Halo mission that you are a specialist in what your kind call "post traumatic stress disorder". The Arbiter weaved his head from side to side. "My people call it simply "battle strain" and tend to wear it off through orgiastic sex and an addiction to adrenaline."

She fidgeted, and though she kept her features neutral, her scent suggested that he had made her uncomfortable.

"Those measures are not working for my mate."

The Human raised her eyebrows. "You aren't here to seek help for yourself?"

"Oh, I am," the Arbiter assured her. "Because I have listened to my mate wake screaming night after night, and nothing I do for him seems to help. It is not in the nature of our people to ask others to tend our weaknesses. I would not shame him by discussing this matter with another Sangheili. You, on the other hand…" The Arbiter bowed his head. "Sergeant Perez spoke very highly of you and your, ah, psychological treatment. And…" He drew a deep breath, as centuries of Sangheili tradition reached out to strangle the words in his throat. He had to force the words through his mandibles, and they did not come easily. "And this matter is beyond my ability to handle myself."

Rtas 'Vadum stalked across the parade square of the Human base, mandibles trembling from the jittery energy that coursed through his veins.

He had once been so calm, so even-tempered, so in control of himself. What had happened?

It was as though every nightmare added more fuel to the pit inside him. The bottom of his heart was now an immense reactor, roiling destructively, awaiting an inevitable cataclysm. Time had not served to cure his pain. The desperation of the Great Betrayal and the battle of the Halos had only masked it; now, with Xytan Jar 'Wattin's rebels failing to provide a clear and present threat, Rtas 'Vadum was perilously close to overload.

Every blink of his eyes brought back scenes from his nightmares. _Infinite Succor_. The Flood. Kusovai. His blade through Kusovai's chest. That moment of horrific recognition in Kusovai's eyes.

Many of those scenes were more than dreams; some were also memories. Perhaps all of them were. Perhaps he'd only imagined them. Rtas didn't know any more.

_He'd killed his bondmate_.

Had Kusovai known what had happened to him—had he been aware that the Flood had stolen his body? Had he welcomed his death? Or had he been expecting Rtas to save him?

Rtas could not help but feel that Kusovai's death-stare had been accusatory.

_Rtas had killed his bondmate and mere weeks later pledged himself to the Arbiter…_

As if Kusovai had been nothing.

As if Kusovai could be replaced by a selfish, self-centered male who spent most of his limited free time breeding with females.

Rtas was a proud warrior. He was not going to beg Thel to stay home with him. Why had Thel wanted Rtas as his mate at all, when he seemed to find every available Sangheili female so much more desirable? Had Thel truly felt that the only way to cement their alliance was to form a romantic union, as though…

Bitterness filled Rtas' heart. Sangheili had been doing that since time immemorial—using marriage to commemorate a cessation of hostilities between warring keeps or to cement an alliance between city-states. Males could not marry, but the bonding ritual would certainly unite the fearsome SpecOps unit and the followers of the charismatic Arbiter. Jar 'Wattin might have half the surviving Sangheili fleets under his control, but he did not have _Shadow of Intent _or SpecOps….because of Rtas.

Rtas tried to remember the good things about the Arbiter. He loved the man. Surely he had reason to. Surely he was not being a fool.

He remembered the Arbiter fighting at his side during the missions, sweeping him off his feet in the rare private moments they could snatch for themselves. Rtas had fought many battles, but he had still felt that the dynamic he shared with Thel 'Vadam was something special.

He wondered if he could trust his own judgment in the aftermath of _Infinite Succor._

Rtas closed his eyes and told himself yet again that there was nothing he could do for Kusovai now. The only thing he could do was to be the best possible Admiral that he could be.

And that meant looking after his troops. Like N'tho 'Sraom, for example. The former SpecOps warrior was now assigned to Earth as the Sangheili's Junior Ambassador, but Rtas intended to change that. He was not sure of all the details surrounding the exile to Earth of four Sangheili—Usze 'Taham, N'tho 'Sraom, and two others—but from what he had heard, the root of the issue had to do with Usze's rebellion against the Ascetic Order. Poor N'tho had fought bravely during the Halo mission; he did not deserve to be kept here on an alien world, a slave to Usze 'Taham's desires. Rtas would take N'tho back to Sanghelios and give him the honours he had earned: a place on the Arbiter's personal honour guard.

Usze, however, would stay. Rtas had seen the purple cloak that 'Taham wore around—the Supreme Commander's cloak with Thel 'Vadam's personal seal embroidered on the lining. Rtas could only be stunned at the Senior Ambassador's sheer audacity. It was as good as walking right up to Rtas and informing him, smugly, that Usze had slept with the Arbiter and what was Rtas going to do about it?

Everyone had been so surprised when Usze 'Taham, the perfect Ascetic, had not only ignored a command to assassinate the Arbiter when the Ascetics sided with the renegade Admiral Xytan Jar 'Wattin, but furthermore, had warned the Arbiter of what the Ascetics were planning. Rtas now understood the matter perfectly. 'Taham still felt something for the Arbiter. He had sold out the Ascetics to aid his lover.

And, though Rtas was glad the Arbiter was still alive, he could not approve of such a foul betrayal of one's battle vows, and he could not abide the fact that the Arbiter's filthy secret affair with 'Taham had been the thing to save his life.

Well, if Usze 'Taham was going to be the wedge between Rtas and the Arbiter, Rtas could return the favour.

Rtas knew that Usze would not be happy to lose poor N'tho, who he had apparently drafted to warm his bed in the Arbiter's absence.

And, if Rtas were perfectly honest about it, the opportunity to lash back at 'Taham was as much a motivation for his next actions as the chance to help 'Sraom.

Rtas knocked firmly on Usze's bedroom door.

At this hour he had expected the Ambassador to be in his office, but when he had gone to the wing of rooms that had been given to the Sangheili for the running of their Embassy, N'tho 'Sraom had been seated behind the desk.

Rtas, once again, had barely recognized 'Sraom, tall and proud in his resplentant pearl-coloured armour.

Rtas still had trouble seeing N'tho as anything other than the craven Minor Domo with the superlative blade skills and the bad reputation whom he had taken into SpecOps. _That _N'tho had been a quivering creature, oblivious to the frightening potential he possessed, all too eager to sacrifice anything he had for the sake of a little decent treatment.

He was pleased to see N'tho evolving into a strong and confident warrior, and he wondered how much farther N'tho might go once he was no longer under Usze 'Taham's thumb.

Rtas remembered N'tho's first day at SpecOps all too well. It had been less than a year ago….

The 812th Assault Division had not wanted N'tho 'Sraomee to take part in the SpecOps qualifying trials, but Rtas insisted that a Sangheili judged worthy of carrying a blade deserved an opportunity. N'tho had turned up at the trials in the company of a Major Domo who, at his advanced age, ought to have been promoted above the second-to-bottom rank. Rtas watched carefully as the elderly warrior ran interference, keeping N'tho from mixing with his fellow soldiers, and he was on the verge of dismissing 'Sraomee out of hand.

And then the trials began.

N'tho 'Sraomee was easily one of the better candidates. He was not the swiftest, but he had a speed that belied his size. He might not have been the smartest, but instinct could prove more valuable knowledge when weapons were drawn. He was probably the strongest, or close to it. His endurance was unparallelled; 'Sraomee could take anything thrown at him and come out fighting.

The other candidates waved their blades about and bowed flamboyantly and urged their supporters to call their names; 'Sraomee cut right to the point, defeated his opponents, and then slipped off the field the first chance he could. The man in battle was a polar opposite of the quiet and withdrawn warrior in blue; with his blade in his hand, N'tho 'Sraomee was brutal, relentless, merciless, and the risks he took were frightening. One opponent almost took N'tho's head off; N'tho, blood streaming from the side of his neck, ignored the injury and won the fight.

Rtas was left with a difficult decision. He could tell that N'tho was not the kind of personality to integrate easily into SpecOps and the rumours he heard from his fellow officers concerned him. But with that sheer potential…how could he _not _select 'Sraomee? N'tho's abilities were clearly going to waste in the 812th, where the young warrior with the Mark of Punishment was forced to take on the most menial duties in combat, unless his superiors wanted his sword defending them in battle. Cowards.

Rtas was certain he could salvage a fine warrior from N'tho 'Sraomee.

A month later, N'tho stood before Rtas in the SpecOps command centre. Rtas frowned, noting the purple ring around his left eye and the bloody gash down his right cheek. From the way N'tho carried himself, Rtas could guess there were more partially-healed injuries under his suit. Rtas did not want to guess where or how he might have gotten them; the records stated he had not recently been in combat.

Rtas gave N'tho the usual "welcome-to-SpecOps" spiel and then delivered a special talk designed just for him.

"I have heard two other things about you, 'Sraomee—your Mark of Punishment and your, ah, pattern of behaviour, particularly as it relates to, er, entertaining your fellow warriors."

'Sraomee stood before him, head bowed.

"First, be it known that your Mark of Punishment is not of concern to me. However it affects your position in society outside this unit, within SpecOps you are beginning with a clean slate. Fight honourably, fight with all your soul, and your position in this unit as well as your position on the Path are assured."

'Sraomee raised his eyes and nodded.

"Secondly, as to your personal conduct…"

Rtas never got to finish his sentence. N'tho took a step forward. "I understand," he said quietly, and placed his mandibles directly under Rtas'.

Rtas was shocked by the sudden intimate contact as his subordinate's hands came to rest on his shoulders. He breathed in the sweet musk of 'Sraomee's breath when he inhaled. Rtas could count on one hand the number of males he'd been this close to, the fourth of whom was Kusovai.

Rtas had to pull back his head and place his hand on 'Sraomee's cheek to get enough distance to speak. "I have a mate," Rtas said gently.

Oh, and Rtas remembered when poor young Kusovai had attempted to solicit him because of a mistaken assumption that such behaviour was what was expected. He also remembered his first mate, Anno 'Ahpamee, fumbling on their graduation night, and another young warrior, quivering in his arms…

"Doesn't matter," N'tho replied quietly. "I can take him too…"

Rtas hoped his shock didn't show on his face. 'Sraomee was nothing like Rtas' lovers. There was no innocence left in him.

Rtas put his hand under N'tho's mandibles, gripping them and lifting his face. N'tho opened his eyes, and the look in them was bleak.

"That won't be necessary," Rtas said, trying not to sound disgusted, though that was how he felt. He found himself struggling not to disguise his revulsion with anger.

N'tho flinched as if struck. "Then…" He licked his mandibles and the expression on his face was one of pure terror. When he spoke, his voice was strangled, choked. "Then what are you going to ask me to do in return for promotion to your unit?"

Rtas didn't speak. He honestly didn't know what to say, and it was only when the door opened that Rtas realized he was still holding N'tho by the chin as the younger warrior clung desperately to his shoulders.

SpecOps Subcommander Kusovai stood in the doorway.

Kusovai's ordinarily easy-going personality vanished as he took in the scene. The growl that came ripping out of his throat as he stepped into the room reminded Rtas of the demon that Kusovai became on the battlefield. Rta could not remember the last time Kusovai had snarled like that while facing him.

"Get away from my mate, 'Sraomee," Kusovai hissed.

N'tho's eyes widened and he practically pushed Rtas away from him. He turned around, head bowed, quivering in front of Kusovai now, though he shot a pleading look back at Rtas as if begging for protection. Rtas could only imagine what kind of price N'tho might expect to pay it later.

"I've heard about you," Kusovai continued. "I've heard about how you'll bend over for any warrior who so much as looks at you. I've heard about your depraved little parties and your attention-seeking and your habit of flashing your rump at your superior officers and _it stops now, 'Sraomee_."

Rtas let Kusovai deliver the lecture. Someone had to say it, after all. But when N'tho staggered backwards, clearly on the verge of panic, Rtas finally figured out the reason for his behaviour.

He had a Mark of Punishment. Clearly he'd made a habit of trading sexual favours for…who knew what? Promotions, definitely, and Rtas could only imagine what else.

He hoped it hadn't been something that left 'Sraomee with no other choice. Something like rations.

Kusovai had already done what was needed to scare N'tho into good behaviour, but he needed to know there were other ways to be rewarded.

Rtas put his hand on 'Sraomee's shoulder. N'tho wheeled to face him. Rtas ignored the shocked look on Kusovai's face.

"What I want from you," Rtas murmured, one finger stroking N'tho's cheek, "is for you to fight bravely and honourably. Work hard to become a respectable warrior. Do you understand what I am saying? Your…favours…will buy you nothing here, and you should not feel forced to offer them. Your blade will speak for itself, if your mouth does not override it. This unit will ensure that you are fed and clothed and armed as long as you are willing to become one of us. Are we clear?"

N'tho's eyes, at long last, shone with hope. "Yes, sir."

"You are dismissed."

N'tho saluted and, with one quick and wary glance at Kusovai, left the room.

Kusovai closed the door behind the departing warrior. He was still growling under his breath. For the usually quiet Kusovai, this display of aggression was unusual.

Rtas stepped closer. "What is wrong, my dear mate?"

Kusovai shot a look at him. "You don't find him…attractive, do you?"

Rtas' mandibles gaped. In the years of their relationship, Kusovai had bloomed from a competant swordsman to the self-assured Subcommander of SpecOps. This sort of insecurity was unusual for him.

"What makes you say such a thing?" Rtas asked.

"He's not bad looking and he's very, very easy to get." Kusovai swallowed, picking at the floor with his left hoof. "And he's still quite young…sir."

Rtas pulled his mate close, pressing his muzzle against Kusovai's. "It is not the fact that you were young, that attracted me to you," Rtas murmured. "Nor did six months of behaving myself while we got to know one another convince me to seek company elsewhere."

Kusovai, somewhat mollified, nuzzled his cheek.

Rtas returned his mate's affectionate gesture, but he still felt troubled. He remembered that moment when N'tho had reminded him of young Kusovai, of Anno 'Ahpamee, and of that other warrior, the one who had vanished… No, Rtas didn't want N'tho 'Sraomee, but his bondmate's concern was reasonable.

Rtas made a note to assign N'tho 'Sraomee to the command of his other Subcommander, Rycl 'Otsedee. In the meantime, though…

Rtas smiled, letting his hands drift over Kusovai's armour. "You are the only one for me, Kusovai," he murmured. "But do not take my word for it. Here. Let me _show _you…"

Rtas shook the memory away as Usze 'Taham answered the door. The Senior Ambassador's posture suggested that he was tired; he was leaning very heavily on his cane. If N'tho had grown into a majestic and imposing figure since his arrival on Earth, Usze had withered away from his arrogant glory as the Blademaster Liason to the Fleet of Particular Justice. Rtas could only wonder what Usze's face looked like under the Assault helmet he wore.

"I must speak with you," Rtas said stiffly.

"Come in," 'Taham responded. He limped clear of the door to allow Rtas admittance.

The old Usze 'Taham had been arrogant, endlessly critical, and coldly judgmental. It was often infuriating that 'Taham's impossible standards which he demanded of others were no less than what he expected of himself; one could say many things about Usze 'Taham, but never that he was a hypocrite.

To see the former Blademaster broken this way was at the same time smugly rewarding and utterly terrifying. Rewarding, because Usze 'Taham had not been a very nice person, and if attitude shaped destiny, he had received what he deserved. Now it was time for him to learn what it was like to try and try and fall short every time. And terrifying, because Usze 'Taham had been the epitome of a fighting Sangheili, and if he could fall this way, so could anyone.

Rtas almost felt badly for adding another blow to 'Taham's pride, but he doubted N'tho would feel the same.

"You seem tired," Rtas said, "so I will be brief. I am reassigning N'tho 'Sraom to his former Honour Guard position. He will return with the Arbiter and I to Iruiru."


End file.
